When the Bough Breaks
by Neptune47
Summary: After Tim’s rescue, Nightwing temporarily returns to Gotham. But even with Dick Grayson around, the pieces of Batman’s world slowly fall apart. Set in the “Return of the Joker” continuity.
1. Prelude and Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: "Holy Lawsuits, Batman! She doesn't own us!"

When the Bough Breaks…

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Summary: Set in the "Return of the Joker" continuity. After Tim's rescue, Nightwing temporarily returns to Gotham. But even with Dick Grayson around, the pieces of Batman's world slowly fall apart.

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AN: This was originally going to be a short story about Dick's reaction to Tim's abduction. But (as a lot of my stories do) it mutated into something else. Hopefully a good something else. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

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Prelude: The Wait is Over

He landed, right foot, then left, on the third floor fire escape balcony. The wings of his suit automatically folded when he dropped his arms. He grabbed the bottom edge of the window with one hand and yanked upwards. The springs gave way with a little _twang_ and the glass panel slid easily on the rail.

Stepping into his apartment, he pulled off the black mask that hid his identity and held it between his thumb and forefinger. Four months ago, he had left Gotham city to establish himself as a superhero in his own right. To escape the shadow of the bat that had reared him. He'd found a city of his own to protect, and had begun the process of eradicating the petty criminals and crime syndicates that infested it. Every night, he donned his black and blue uniform and patrolled the streets on his motorcycle, trying to protect innocent people from offense. For the past three weeks, however, he'd had his ear to the ground for reasons other than safe-guarding the citizens of his city. He'd pressed every informant, tapped all the police lines, and eavesdropped on the crime bosses to get information. The abduction of anyone in the Bat-family would cause a blip on every radar, even as far away from Gotham as he was. And if anyone did have a lead on his successor as Robin, he was going to get his hands on it. 

Walking to his small bedroom, he flipped the light switch on the inner wall and deposited the mask by the digital alarm clock that read 10:43 with florescent green bars. He'd ended his watch early tonight, anxious to contact Gotham again. He'd been in contact every day since Tim's disappearance, but his attempts to raise Bruce or Alfred or even Barbara the previous night had failed. He didn't like being out of the loop (a habit Alfred blamed on his mentor), and the lack of update had nagged him for the past twenty-four hours.

He tapped the touch pad of the laptop on his desk, dissolving the star-field screen saver. A small red box was blinking rapidly on the top left corner of his screen. "Finally," he breathed, pulling off his gloves and seating himself in the desk chair. He clicked the box and the vid-con screen opened on his monitor, showcasing Alfred's stoic face.

"Master Dick, I know you won't be back home for another few hours at least, but I thought you should know…we found him. He's home."

Dick rubbed his palm down his face, letting it come to a halt on his chin. He leaned back in his chair, realizing he'd been much more worried than he'd originally thought. Quickly hitting a few keys, another vid-con screen popped up. He entered another command, and it connected to the bat cave computer. Barbara's cowl-less face appeared, sullen and haggard, in the box. 

"Barbara, I just got Alfred's message. How's Tim?"

She sighed, and he noticed her red rimmed eyes. "Not good, Dick. He's been through…more than anyone should have to." Her breathing was shaky.

"What happened? Who took him? How badly is he injured?" 

"It was the Joker. And Harley Quinn for good measure."

Dick remembered the couples escape from Arkham a month before he left Gotham. In fact, in one of his last ventures as a protector of Gotham, he and Batman had tried to locate the deranged lovers. The search had gone on for weeks, with no results, and soon they'd been distracted with other matters, other villains, and his decision to branch away from Bruce.

"I knew it was too good to be true. He's been laying low for months. We should have figured he'd have something up his sleeve." He wished he hadn't given up the search all those months ago. "What did he want with Tim?"

"Apparently, Joker and Harley were looking to adopt."

"Adopt?"

"Yes. But they obviously couldn't go through the normal channels, so they took—" her voice cracked and she abruptly cut off her sentence.

"Barbara, what? Tell me."

"God, it was horrible, Dick. I couldn't believe my eye when I saw Tim, dressed up like that monster. I've seen people infected with the Joker's serum before, but never like this. And the shock torture…" She looked away from the screen, and bit her lip to stop its quivering.

The pieces slowly fell into place in Dick's head. He clenched his fist. "Is he going to be alright?"

"I don't know. We've been working all day to try and reverse this. And Tim's just a mental mess right now."

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All day? "You found him last night?" She nodded a confirmation, and he frowned, fuming more. "You should have contacted me then."

"We had our hands full."

"I should have been there!"

"What good would that have done?"

"Any amount. I could have taken care of the Joker while you took care of Tim."

"The Joker's dead. Harley too, most likely."

"What?" 

"Tim killed him."

Tim had never killed anyone before, he knew. And he also knew what taking a life could do to you. "Does he remember?"

She nodded. "After it happened, we had to sedate him to calm him down. His mind is just jumping in loops all over itself."

He ran a hand over his pony-tailed hair. "This is such a nightmare."

"Maybe you should come home. Just for a little while…till we can get things back to normal. Or as normal as they'll ever be again." She raised a hand, cutting off any argument she thought he wanted to make. "Look, I get that you want to make it on your own, but…you're needed here right now. _We_ need you here."

She need not have tried to convince him. He'd made his decision almost as soon as the conversation began. "It'll take me an hour and a half to get there. Leave a light on in the batcave for me."

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Chapter 1: Family Reunion

He turned the handlebars, veering his bike off the main road. Off-roading was one of his favorite pastimes. It was also the quickest way to get into the bat cave. Toppling the various shrubs that got in his way, he pulled up on the bike, elevating it off the sharp drop-off of the hill. He re-landed on the level terrain ten feet lower. In front of him was the large stone glacier under Wayne Manor. The rock face approached him faster as he gunned the accelerator. Once it looked certain that he was about to crash into the wall, he pressed a small button on the underside of his right handlebar. Immediately, the wall cracked open and slid apart. Once he'd been admitted, it resealed itself.

He followed the paved path to get further into the cave, slamming on the breaks and rotating the bike ninety degrees once he'd reached the circular platform. Barbara was waiting there to greet him. 

"Anything new?" he asked, dismounting the bike and removing his helmet. 

"No. I've been working to make an antidote." She motioned for him to follow, and led him to her worktable. 

"Don't we already have one that counteracts the Joker's serum?"

"It isn't having much of an effect. He's revamped it somehow. I think it's this new drug, ethophos—" 

"—phoprovenol. It's been in most of the drug busts I've done in the past two months."

"Well, it's making our job harder." She pulled an empty test tube out of the holder and added some liquid with a pipette. Capping it, she placed it in the last open slot on the centrifuge. The device hummed and began to rotate. "We've been giving him doses of the old antidote. It helps for a few hours, but then he just reverts again."

"Where's Bruce? I'd think he'd be down here working till he found the solution."

"He's upstairs with Tim. That's the only thing that's gotten him away from the cave. I'm worried about him, Dick. He hasn't slept in at least seventy-two hours. And I'm sure he barely slept those weeks Tim was missing."

He nodded, expression still grim. "I'll go check on him. How are you holding up?"

Shrugging, she folded her arms. "Fine, I guess, considering everything…" she looked away, blinking rapidly as her eyes became glassy.

He put his arm around her and squeezed gently. "Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry," he told her softly.

She turned to him and loosely rested her head on his shoulder. "I hope so. God, I hope so."

~~~

Dick opened the large oak door a crack, allowing light from the hallway to spill into the dark room. "Bruce?" When he got no response, he pushed the door open further and peaked his head through. In the far corner, next to the queen-sized bed, he saw large form of his mentor sitting, hands steepled against his mouth. The newly introduced light covered the right side of his body, but the rest blurred easily into the darkness.

"Close the door."

He entered the room and pulled the door shut behind him. "I came as soon as I heard." Bruce didn't move, keeping himself so focused on his sleeping ward that Dick wasn't sure he'd even heard him. He walked closer to the bed, flanking the chair, and saw the sharp black strands of Tim's hair peaking out from under the covers. The sheets gently rose and fell with his shallowed breathing. "How is he?"

"Asleep for now. Hopefully he'll get a few hours in this time."

"Barbara told me you've got him on sedatives."

"He doesn't need to be awake for any of this. Not until we find a permanent solution."

"Yeah, I agree." He placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Get some sleep. You look like hell."

"No."

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you start getting those bags under your eyes."

"You think this is funny?"

"Of course I don't. I was just--"

"Then don't try to make jokes. Don't try to lighten the mood."

"You're right, I'm sorry." There was no arguing with Bruce, especially when he was like this. But he wasn't giving up just yet. "But you're not doing him any good by sitting here brooding. Get some rest. Even if it's just for an hour or two."

"I'm not leaving him. Not again." He moved his hands, pressing his forehead into his palm. "He's just a child, Dick. You're all just children. And I've dragged you all into this life."

Dick knelt down, keeping his hand firmly on Bruce's shoulder. He'd seen a lot of Bruce's moods, but he'd never seen this one. This helplessness. "You didn't drag us anywhere. We all came willingly. Because we trust you and what you're doing. I know it doesn't always seem like it, but we do. We always will."

"Maybe you shouldn't trust so blindly."

"Bruce—"

"No," he stood, offsetting Dick's arm. "No. What right did I have to put a thirteen-year-old boy in the line of fire?"

"Bruce this isn't your fault."

"Who's next? Barbara? You?"

"You can't predict every scheme every lunatic in Gotham is going to come up with." He stood again, "I mean, come on Bruce, do you know how much good you do for this city? We've put away Bane, Poison Ivy, Two-Face…and I don't even know how many others. And I know that all of us—me, Alfred, Barbara and even Tim—don't regret a minute of it. So stop trying to blame yourself for saving a city."

"But at what cost?" The blankets on the bed moved as Tim rustled in his sleep. Bruce reached down and readjusted the sheets around the boy, "You're right. I'm not doing him any good by being here." He moved past Dick. "Stay here," he paused when he reached the oak frame, "He…he has nightmares. Just make sure he knows where he is, and that he's safe."

"Don't worry, I will. Want me to wake you up in an hour?"

"That won't be necessary. I'm not sleeping until I've fixed the mess I've made. I'll be downstairs helping Barbara." He shut the door behind him.

"Yeah, okay," Dick whispered to the empty room. He hooked the chair Bruce had vacated with his foot and pulled it closer to him. He sat, hand steepled against his mouth, and kept up his mentor's vigil. 

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To Be Continued…

Remember, reviews are a girl's best friend…


	2. Chapter 2 and Chapter 3

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Disclaimer: "Holy Lawsuits, Batman! She doesn't own us!"

When the Bough Breaks…

****

Summary: Set in the "Return of the Joker" continuity. After Tim's rescue, Nightwing temporarily returns to Gotham. But even with Dick Grayson around, the pieces of Batman's world slowly fall apart.

AN: Chapters 2 and 3 are up. Thanks for the great feedback guys! Just a quick note…I'm using the uncut version of "Return of the Joker" for this story. Personally, I found that version of the Joker's death (shot with the "BANG" gun) to be more emotional than the electrocution. If you haven't seen this version, I'd recommend trying to get your hands on it, if only for that scene.

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Chapter 2: Junior

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Ha.

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"I gotta' get outta' town for a while, Tim."

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"Again?" he asked, picking up a jelly doughnut from the pink box.

"Heat's on. You know how it is, kid. I'll be back in a few weeks."

"Right, Dad."

"Take care of yourself, JJ."

Ha. Ha.

"What?" he looked up sharply, but his father was gone. "Must have heard wrong," he muttered to himself, focusing back on his doughnut. It was frosted white with two red jellybeans placed symmetrically near the top. Rainbow sprinkles formed a half crescent on the bottom. He stared at the smiling image. "Weird. Didn't see that before." He moved the food to his mouth, ready to bite into it, when a familiar sound stopped him. Laughter. He slowly pulled it away from his mouth and looked back at the frosted surface. The half-moon mouth opened and closed with the laughter.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

He gasped and dropped it. It landed face down on the table. The noise stopped. 

"Get a hold of yourself, Tim," he told himself, picking up the doughnut again. The frosting was smeared on the table, but any signs of the face (and laugh) were gone. Still, he'd lost his appetite. 

He went to the trashcan, opened the lid, and fell in.

"Whoa!" He was falling fast in blackness. Fumbling around his utility belt, he found his grapple, and shot it upwards. It locked onto something and he controlled his fall into a swing. He veered right, and the darkness melted into the red sky of Gotham City. He landed easily on the roof of Wayne Tower. Next to Batman.

Ha. Ha.

"Anything?"

"Nope. City's clean."

The older man nodded. "Then we're done for tonight." He pulled out his grapple gun. "Let's go, JJ."

Ha. 

Robin jerked his head sharply to his partner. "What?"

But the man had already launched himself off the Tower. Robin shot of his own grapple and swung to catch up. He reached Batman in the down arc. "Why did you call me that?" He yelled to be heard over the traffic. 

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Instead of responding, Batman turned his rope sharply and delivered a kick to Robin's midsection. The force of the blow sent the boy off his trajectory and crashing onto a near by roof with an "Ooof." 

It wasn't the kick that had winded Robin the most. It was the expression on the face of Batman (who had landed on the roof shortly after him). He was smiling.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

"Batman?"

Ha. Ha. Ha.

The man stalked towards him, still smiling. His teeth were yellow.

"Don't come closer." He needed to get off this roof. He felt blindly for his grapple. It had to have fallen near him. His left hand found its handle. 

Ha. Ha. Ha.

He seized it and aimed. But it wasn't a grapple in his hand anymore. It was a gun.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

He pulled the trigger without hesitation. A metal rod with a banner reading 'BANG' flew from it's barrel and plunged itself into the Bat on Batman's chest.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.

"Oh god," Tim whispered. The gun fell from his limp hand.

Batman fell to his knees, still smiling. His cowl began melting and blurring, until it was ghostly white on his face. His eye's and lips turned red. "That's it, sonny," He wheezed through Batman's voice. "You're just like me now." He voice grew less gruff, and sharpened with laughter.

"No." Tim looked down and saw the red of his own costume fade into purple.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.

The older man's face turned pale and gaunt. The voice was not Batman's. It was the Joker's. "You're just like me now, JJ."

***

"No!"

Dick jumped toward the bed, immediately, trying to hold Tim down as he struggled against his sheets. "Tim, wake up!" He held the boy by his shoulder, and shook him.

"I'm not. Stop calling me that!" Tim pulled a hand free and sent a fist flying. Dick easily caught it before it made contact with his chin.

"Damn it, Tim!" He released the boy's shoulder and settled for pinning his arms to the bed. "Wake up! You're safe! You're at home!"

Tim ceased his struggling. His eye's shot open and looked around wildly. He breathing was fast and ragged. "Wha…Where…?" he rasped out.

Dick let the boy's hands go and placed his palm on Tim's forehead. "You're at the manor. You're safe now. You were just having a nightmare."

Tim took in his surrounding, and then focused on Dick's face. His breathing eased a bit. "You're here?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Knew you couldn't say away for long," he said lightly. It killed Dick to hear him try to ease the mood despite everything that had happened. 

Tim pushed up on his elbows, trying to sit up. Dick helped him, and pushed a few pillows behind him so he could lean back. Without the blankets to shade his face, Dick could see the bleached skin of his successor. His eyes were still hallowed and wide, his teeth yellow and bared. But there was no smile. No smile.

Dick pushed away his anger. For Tim's sake, he had too. "How you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?"

"It depends on if they've found a new anti-toxin yet. Hey, don't look so surprised," he said at Dick's surprised expression. "Bruce may not want me to know what's going on, but that doesn't mean I can't figure it out by myself. I'm not completely stupid."

Dick ruffled his hair. "You sure aren't, kid. They're still working on it, but I'm sure they're close."

"Right." Tim leaned back on his pillows. "Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming."

He put his hand on Tim's shoulder and squeezed. The boy surprised him further by pulling him forward and wrapping his small arms around Dick's torso. He patted the boy's back, awkwardly first, but then comfortingly. "Couldn't keep me away, kid. Couldn't keep me away."

***

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Chapter 3: House Call

"I wish you'd called me as soon as you found him, Bruce. Not a week later." 

"He was in good care here, Leslie. "

"Maybe," she said as she injected the orange anti-toxin into Tim's arm, "but as your family Doctor—"

"He was fine here." His tone told her that he was done with that subject.

"Fine, Bruce." She pulled the needle out and placed it back on the bedside tray. She watched the sleeping boy's skin regain a more natural color. His eyes lost the darkness around them and the lips returned to their normal size. "He's going to need more of these."

"How many more?"

"It's hard to say. Maybe once a week to start with. It might reduce to once a month after a while." She checked his heartbeat with her stethoscope. "The only way to know for sure is to see how often he regresses. I've never treated a patient for anything like this before, so I can't give you anything specific." Satisfied, she put the instrument back into her bag and closed it.

"You're a doctor. Your job is to give me the specifics."

She laughed humorlessly. "And your job is to keep these boys safe Bruce. I watched you do it to yourself. Then Dick. And now Tim. I prayed that you'd stop this foolish crusade of yours before something happened. Something like this." 

He clenched his jaw, but kept his voice cool. "I don't need a lecture from you. I need to know if he's going to be okay."

He picked up her bag. "Physically? Eventually, he'll be fine. Just keep him on the doses of the anti-toxin, and the effects will subside. Emotionally? Well, that damage can't be fixed with an injection. He's going to need psychiatric help."

"You know he can't see a professional."

She brushed passed him to the door. "Right, of course, can't give up the family secret, can we?" She grabbed the handle and pulled hard.

"Leslie," he said softly, putting his hand on her forearm. "Whatever he needs I'll…I mean he's got to…You know I'll do whatever needs to be done."

Bruce Wayne, at a loss for words. "I know you will." She turned and faced him again. "Weekly sessions. With me. We'll start in a few days."

"Thank you, Leslie."

"I don't want your thanks. I want you to promise me you'll stop this. Stop your war. I'm tired of fixing up its casualties."

"I can't stop. This is my life." He silenced her before, she could argue. "But I'm going to make sure it isn't theirs."

*** 

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To Be Continued…

Remember, reviews are a girl's best friend…


	3. Chapter 4

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Disclaimer: "Holy Lawsuits, Batman! She doesn't own us!"

When the Bough Breaks…

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Summary: Set during the year of his recovery, Tim undergoes his first hypnotherapy session.

AN: Chapter 4 is up. Thanks for the great feedback guys! You really made my day! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It's been my project for the past 7 hours. It wasn't in my original outline for the story, but just jumped in there. I felt like I needed to put Tim through the ringer just a little more. Poor guy, somebody give him a hug.

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Chapter 4: Hypnotherapy 

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"What do you see?"

Tim looked up at the sky and immediately shielded his eyes. "I'm in Metropolis." Adjusting to the sunlight, he lowered his arm, and the ray of spots slowly disappeared.

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"Do you know why you're there?"

"No…" He looked around and then changed his answer. "Wait a minute, yeah, I do." A large hand touched his back, guiding him forward. He looked up at the squared jaw and the man smiled back at him. "I'm with Superman. We've just wrapped up a case." They stood before various masked villains, bound together with his utility rope.

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"You're with Superman?"

"Uh-huh."

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"Is Batman there as well?"

Tim looked around and crossed his arms. "Not likely."

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"Why do you say that?"

"Because he's never here." Superman grabbed the tied criminals and lifted them easily into the air. He saluted Tim as he flew off.

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"And how does that make you feel?"

He scratched the back of his head. "How do I feel about him not being here? Fine, I guess. He was probably busy with something else."

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"Alright Tim, I want you to leave Metropolis and come back to Gotham. Come back to the manor."

"Okay," The sun dissolved around him, taking Metropolis with it. The scene reformed itself inside Wayne Manor. "I'm in the living room. In front of the fireplace." He turned in a circle, surveying the room. Rain beat against the large window on the opposite wall. "It's pretty stormy outside."

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"Now I need you to do something for me. I want you to put someone else into this picture. It can be anyone you want."

The living room rippled and Alfred appeared. "It's Alfred."

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"How does his presence make you feel?"

"Hungry. Did you know that he makes the best apple pie I've ever tasted."

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"I've heard rumors. Hunger aside, do you feel anything else?"

"Happy I guess. Alfred's always on top of things. He makes sure I eat and sleep and all that good stuff. And he takes care of me when I'm sick." He smiled at the older man. "I'm really glad he's here."

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"Now, I want you to add someone else."

The room ripple again and Barbara Gordon's image appeared, lying on the couch, one had pressed to her stomach, the other stretched above her head. She wasn't in her Batgirl costume, but in a black strapless dress that barely touched her mid-thigh. 

"Barbara," he smiled lazily, before coughing and shaking his head clear. "I mean, it's Barbara Gordon," he said more firmly.

__

"You like her."

"What? Like her? No-no-no-no-no," he laughed nervously, "I don't like her. I mean, I like her. She's awesome. And pretty. Really pretty. But she's also a lot…I mean it's not like we…but I don't _like her_ like her, you know." He paused again, "Well, maybe a little, but it's not like I'm in love with her or anything." Barbara giggled at his frustration, nose wrinkling with her smirk. He put his head in his palms, flushing. "Oh man."

__

"It's alright, Tim. You care about her. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yeah, I know. She's just…a really good person, you know? And she always takes care of me, like Alfred. And she's saved my butt more times than I can count." 

Barbara smiled at him warmly from the couch.

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"You value her presence in your life. It's important for you to identify the people you trust. Is there anyone else who fits that description?"

"Yeah." Tim felt the air beside him shift and change. A hand pressed down on his shoulder. He looked up at Dick, clad in his Nightwing costume, sans the black mask. He smiled down on him. "Nightwing."

__

"Nightwing. Dick Grayson."

"Uh-huh. I didn't like him at first. Didn't think he liked me either. Actually, I didn't think he cared enough to have feelings about me, one way or the other. But then he helped me on a bust a few months after he came back to Gotham. We talked, and he turned out to be pretty cool."

__

"Sounds like you respect him."

"Are you kidding? How could I not? He's awesome! He's really smart. Barbara told me he graduated at the top of his class. And he's one of the best fighters I've ever seen. He kicks so much bad-guy butt. I saw him take out seven gang-bangers all by himself once. Didn't even break a sweat. But it's more than just that. He never talks down to me. When we work together, I feel like he really trusts me to handle things. He comes to Gotham more—a lot more since…just a lot more than before. He knows that I get pretty bored around here these days, so he we hang out. I've gone back to Blüdhaven with him, too. He's like…he's like…"

__

"He's like a brother to you."

"Yeah." Tim looked back up at Dick. The black mask had appeared on his face and he stood tall. Proud. He was everything Tim had ever admired rolled into one person. "He's just…awesome. He's the original Robin. He was always so fast. So strong. So confident. I wish I could be more like him." Tim turned his head and stared hard at the ground. His voice came softer. "But I can't. I'll never be able to live up to him. Or be as good as he was." Without direction, the remaining image rippled into the room, standing across from him, face covered by shadows. He wore a cleanly pressed black suit and his blue eyes focused on the mantle above Tim's head. "And no matter how hard I try, I'll never mean as much to Bruce as he did."

__

"Tim, for how long have you felt this way?"

He stared at the man who stood before him, ignoring the burning of his eyes. The tingle at the back of his throat. "I've tried, I really have. But it never seems to be enough."

__

"I want you to re-center yourself, Tim, just like we practiced. Once you're ready, I want you to add Bruce."

"He's already here."

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"Is there anything you want to say to him?"

"No."

__

"There must be something. Let's go back to what you were saying befor—"

"No. There's nothing to say."

__

"You need to do this, Tim. If you don't want to talk to him directly, why don't you tell me what you feel when you look at him."

He scratched the back of his head. "I guess I feel sorry."

__

"Why do you feel sorry?"

"Because I messed up. I really messed up."

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"Listen to me. You did not mess up. This is not your fault, Tim."

"Yeah it is. I got caught. And I told. We're never supposed to do that, no matter what. The secret comes before everything."

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"Did Bruce tell you that? That protecting your identities was the most important thing?"

"He didn't have to tell me. I was too weak. Dick would never have given in. He probably wouldn't have gotten caught in the first place, because Dick is perfect. The original Robin, the one who should still be working with Batman. I'm just a screw up. And we all know it."

__

"Why do you think that Tim?"

"Haven't you been listening?!" The storm out swelled, throwing the rain harder and faster against the window. The panes flicked with the lightning. "I'm the weak link in the chain. Everyone knew it, but they were just waiting for me to prove it. And I did." His breathing became quicker.

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"Tim, I know that no one thinks that about you. Not Alfred, not Barbara, not Dick, and especially not Bruce."

"You're right. Bruce doesn't think that. He doesn't think about me at all." He stared at the imposing figure, whose eyes were still glued to the mantel. "He won't even look at me. He can't. Because it reminds him that I'm a mistake. He made a mistake when he trained me."

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"Tim, refocus yourself."

"The great Batman made a mistake! I bet it kills him. I bet he can't stand it!" Bruce's dark hair blurred down his face, forming a cowl. His suit changed texture, and his tie reshaped itself into a bat on his chest. "You can't stand it, can you? Seeing me everyday, your one mistake? Look at me!" 

Batman didn't move, his eyes fixed above Tim's head. Tim balled his fist, muscles twitching. "Look at me! Look at my face!" He ran, shrugging off Nightwing's hand, when Batman still didn't budge. His right fist made contact with the older man's stomach, but had to effect. "Stop ignoring me! Stop pretending that I don't exist! Stop going out of town so that you don't have to deal with me anymore!" He left fist had been beating the black bat on his chest. "Stop it! Please," his voice shook and the glossiness of his eyes slipped onto his cheek. His knees gave out and he sank onto the floor. "Please, just stop it." He looked up for some kind of reaction, but got none. He looked back down to the floor. His hand was resting on the toe of Bruce's boot.

__

"Alright Tim, that's enough for today. One…Two…Three."

Tim opened his eyes. He saw the white fresco that Dr. Thompkin's ceiling was composed of. He turned his head to the right. Leslie was sitting near the edge of her chair, holding her spiral notepad securely on her lap. "We're done?"

"Yes, Tim, it's been an hour."

"Hmm," he said, pushing himself up off the long couch he was lying on. "It always passes so quickly. How'd I do?"

"Good. You responded very well to the hypnosis."

"Never though you'd be able to hypnotize me. It's pretty trippy."

She nodded, but was studying her notepad. "How do you feel?"

"Tired. Pretty exhausted, actually. Did you have me run a training drill while I was under?" 

She smiled and pushed her glasses back up her nose. "Nothing quite so traumatic. You may remember some of it with time. But it varies from patient to patient. Don't be too surprised if you don't though."

He rubbed the back of his hair. "Can't you just tell me?"

"Oh, I wasn't privy to what you saw. I served as more of a guide." She looked at her watch. "It's six o'clock. Alfred's probably waiting for you outside. We'll continue again in two days."

He stood. "Right."

She rose as well, walking him to the door. He opened it and began down the dimly lit hall. "Oh Tim, give Bruce my regards, will you?"

"He's out of town right now. Didn't tell me when he'd be back." 

"I see."

"Yeah. He's been pretty busy for the past few months. You know how it is." He waved as he reached the end of the hallway. "Well, I'll see you later, Doc," he pushed the horizontal handle bar of the metal double door and exited.

She looked down at her notepad, the last words she'd written. In the sixth month of their session, Tim's feeling of inadequacy were beginning to surface more prominently. The incident with the Joker had served as a catalyst to more than she realized, although she suspected this had been brewing in Tim for a long time before that. And she feared that the repercussions of that night were far from over. 

***

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To Be Continued…

Remember, reviews are a girl's best friend…


	4. Chapter 5 and Epilogue

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See previous disclaimers.

When the Bough Breaks…

Summary: Tim believes that his partnership with Batman will be restored tonight. Little does he know that his mentor has other plans for him, Nightwing and Batgirl. The Conclusion.

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AN: First of all, thank you for the great reviews Batwonderlove, ChiisaiLammy, LivEvil, silver, and Shahla, they really made my day. 

ChiisaiLammy—I really want to thank you for that detailed review, it really helped! I just wanted to tell you that what you said about Bruce being too soft was a concern I had as well. That scene was a tough one for me to write, because I really had to try and get into his head…see how he'd react to what he was feeling. The original version I'd written out had him acting much colder, but in the end I decided I needed him to be a little distraught here. I think this hit him harder than Dick's departure. It was probably on par with loosing his parents so young. He was responsible for Tim, cares for him like a son, and then something so horrible happens. I needed him to be a little unraveled, since this was one of the darkest moments in his life. It also serves as a contrast to the distance he's shown since then. That flash of heart before he takes it all away. I'm probably going to take your suggestion though, make him a little harder in a reworking of that chapter, but I just wanted to give you guys a feel for where I was coming from with that.

Secondly, Bruce does something pretty bad (I think) in this chapter. Some of you might not agree with his course of action, but I felt that this is how it had to be. Either way, let me know what you think. Now on to the story:

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Chapter 5: Clipped Wings

He did a back flip and then somersaulted through the air. Bracing his hands on the padded beam, he relaunched himself into a series of front handsprings. Landing in a crouch, he planted a palm on the ground lifted into a side kick and then a roundhouse-back kick-upper cut combo to close. "Still got it!" he said after coming to a halt.

"Nice moves, kid. But you left your face unprotected when you came out of the roll."

"Dick!" Tim leaped over the bars of the training area to meet Nightwing as he dismounted his bike. "What are you doing here?"

"Got a page from the boss," he said, putting his helmet on his handlebars. "Looks like the costume still fits," he said, indicating the red and black outfit Tim wore. "You been out?"

"Not yet. But I think tonight's the night. I've run all the drills, and did the last run in _under_ five minutes."

Dick put his arm on Tim's shoulder as they walked to the upper level of the cave. "Under five, huh? That's pretty impressive. Looks like you're ready to get out there and start patrolling again."

"That's what I'm hoping." He looked down and scratched his head. "I hope Bruce feels the same way."

Dick knew that things had been tense between Bruce and Tim. While he hadn't talked much to Bruce, he'd been in touch with Tim through the ups and down of his rehabilitation. The boy had only been up on his feet for a month now, but he was training harder than ever. After months of rehab, Dick understood his drive. He needed to play hero again to revalidate himself. In his own eyes, and in Bruce's. "Still not talking about it?"

"Nope. But he hasn't really talked to me about anything in months. Nothing that really matters, anyway."

"Don't sweat it. That's just Bruce being…Bruce."

"I guess. But I wish he'd say…something…anything. I'm tired of being patronized."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Every time Tim had tried to talk to him about anything bat-related, Bruce had come up with some excuse, or crisis, or blow off. It was a situation Dick was all too familiar with.

"He hasn't…he hasn't said anything to you, has he? About when he's going to put me back in action?"

Dick shook his head. "He hasn't kept me up to date about anything for the past few months."

"Oh," Tim looked disappointedly at the ground.

"Hey don't worry about it, okay? We'll get all this sorted out tonight." 

"Thanks Dick. For everything you've done this year."

"You don't ever have to thank me." 

They reached the main platform and stopped in front of the large computer. Batgirl, also costumed, was monitoring various news programs and police channels on the large screens. She smiled at them, but continued her work.

Dick watched the screens too. Nothing major seemed to be going on anywhere. The newscasts were clean and the police channels dry.

"Looks like it's a quiet night." Tim said to him.

"Yeah, looks like it is." He folded his arms and reexamined the screens, trying to find anything he missed. There was nothing. "So why'd he call me back? There's obviously nothing serious going on."

"You're right. There isn't."

They all turned at the familiar deep voice. He moved out from the shadows (completely suited up) and stood before the three of them.

Tim sucked in a breath and straightened his spine. This was the first time he'd been in costume in a year, and Dick knew he was trying to make a good impression.

Batman looked at Tim briefly but then looked away, not acknowledging the youngest member of the team. "When I started this mission, it was a solo operation. I wanted to make Gotham a safer place to live. I wanted to prevent children from growing up without parents because of some punk with a gun. Along the way, I picked up the three of you. You trained. You got a costume. You signed yourselves to my mission. I liked to think it made some sort of impact, that the city was safer thanks to this work. But then a year ago, the Joker managed to break into my inner circle. He abducted Robin, tortured him—"

"We know what happened," Dick interrupted. "You don't have to narrate it to us like some police repo—"

"That's when I realized the hypocrisy in what I've been doing. How can I be responsible for protecting the city when I keep putting people in danger? Putting all of you in danger?"

"Look, that's ridicu—"

"This isn't a debate, Dick. I've called you here for one reason." He stopped, and if Dick didn't know any better, he'd have thought it was for dramatic effect. "You're all fired." Batman turned his back to them and walked towards the center of the cave. The room hung in silence, save for the clicking of his boots against the ground.

Dick was the first to break it. "What? We're _fired_? Like this is some payroll job that you hired us for?"

"This _is_ a job, Dick. It's a high-risk job, and unfortunately, you don't understand the risks. None of you do."

"Of course we understand the risks. We're not kids anymore."

"That's exactly what you are. Kids who think you're playing hero. Swinging from buildings. Saving the day. But this is the real world. Things don't always end happily. And I won't have anyone dying for a mission that wasn't theirs to begin with." He kept his voice flat and continued walking.

Tim, who'd been silently studying the floor, suddenly moved, running to intercept the older man. "Look, I know you're doing this because of me," he said, tugging on the large black cape to halt it. "I messed up. I got caught. I broke. But I promise that won't happen again. I've been training in here by myself. And Dick's been teaching me some of the stealth maneuvers he learned in Asia. I'm ready. I swear I am!"

Batman turned and looked down and the boy, still holding his cape. "Take off the costume, Tim. Playtime is over."

"Batman, please, don't take this away from me," he pleaded again. "This year has been hard, but I've learned from it. And I'm ready to be Robin again."

The older man stared at him for a second, then pulled a small device from his utility belt. He pointed it at the computer and clicked a small button. All the monitors blurred before being replaced by the black and white image of a few beakers and test tubes. The screen panned over to an upright bed. It took the rest of his companions a second to realize what they were watching.

Tim's eyes went wide, and the cape slipped through his fingers. "No."

The image focused on the bed—a restraining bed—with a boy strapped to it. A pale smiling face pushed itself onto the screen.

"Oh my god," Barbara whispered, covering her mouth with her yellow-gloved hands. "Bruce, what are you doing?"

Dick wasn't so quiet. "Turn it off," he yelled as the face laughed silently and disappeared off-screen again. The boy in the restraints was struggling, but suddenly threw his head back in pain. The multiple screens ignited with the electricity in the picture, and the light vibrated into the darker cave.

Tim sank to his knees, closing his eyes and clutching the sides of his face with his palms. "Stop it," he said with a shaky voice. His palms fisted into his hair. "Why are you doing this?"

"Damn it, Bruce, I said turn it off!" 

Dick started towards the two. Batman looked down at his current apprentice, raised his hand and clicked the button again. The screens went blank off the Joker and Robin's smiling faces. The hand dropped to his side. "You aren't ready. And you never will be."

Dick skidded to a halt in front of Batman and a cowering Tim, and after a quick internal debate, helped the boy up instead of clocking his former mentor.

"It's over, Tim," Batman said, holding his palm out. "Give me the mask."

Tim stood and shrugged off Dick's help. With a quivering hand, he pealed the mask off his face, balled it up in his fist and then put it in the open palm. His newly uncovered eyes were glassy. "I'm sorry," he said before running up the stairs and back into the manor.

Batman closed his hand around the mask and pressed his lips into a thin line. He dropped his arm and his cape covered it. He looked at Dick, who was staring at the door Tim had retreated through. Nightwing would be the next to hang up the costume.

"You cold, heartless bastard." Dick's voice was low, and his gaze remained on Tim's wake.

Batman didn't say anything, but the slits in his cowl narrowed. "It's for his own good. And yours."

Dick looked back at him. "You want to retire me, too." 

There was no response. He studied the man before him. As a kid he'd felt nothing but adoration for the symbol of the bat. It was a noble cause, it was a hero's cause, and it had given his life purpose after he'd been orphaned. He'd hero-worshipped Bruce, the man who saved his life, and wanted nothing more than to be just like him when we grew up. They'd had their ups and downs through the years, but he realized that he'd never lost that adoration for his surrogate father.

Until now. "I can't believe I ever respected you," he told him quietly. "I can't believe I used to try so hard to please you. To make you proud of me. I used to think you were great, Bruce. But now I can finally see the truth. You're as psychotic and perverse as the lunatics you hunt down. It makes me sick."

"You can see whatever you want, Dick. In the end, I'm doing what's best for you."

"Just like you were doing what's best for Tim? Was watching himself be tortured good for him?"

"I did what I had to do to make him give this up."

"Give this up?" Dick's breathing became more ragged and his fists clenched. "You arrogant self-righteous…" Instead of finishing his sentence, he brought his arm back in a flash, and let his fist fly towards Batman's jaw. The older man staggered backward slightly, but didn't fall. He wiped at the blood that had begun to trickle down the corner of his mouth.

Barbara was at their side in an instant. "Dick, stop! What do you think you're doing?" She grabbed his arm, which was posed to strike again.

"What do I think _I'm _doing?" he asked her incredulously. "What does he think _he's_ doing? Tim's been in therapy for months! And for what? To have everything he's worked to rebuild be destroyed by _him_." He pulled his arm away from Barbara, but made no move to attack again. "He trusted you," he told Batman accusingly. "We all did. And you know, you were right. We shouldn't have trusted so blindly." 

"Dick, stop," Barbara begged.

"No Barbara, I won't. We've cut him slack for so long, but now he's crossed the line. Maybe someday Tim will forgive him for all this, but I never will. You're nothing like the person you claim to be, Bruce. I don't want to be a part of your perverted mission anymore." 

The trickle of blood had trailed all the way down to Batman's square jaw, but he made no move to wipe it.

Dick started him down, still breathing hard. When he couldn't look at the older man anymore, he turned his attention back to Barbara. "I'm leaving. For good. Are you coming with me?"

Her mouth fell open at his question. "What?"

"After everything he's done, everything that's happened, you can't want to stay here." He held out his hand to her, palm up. "Come with me," he asked, softer.

"Dick, I…" she (unconsciously) moved away from him. Closer to Bruce. "I can't. I have to stay here." She put her hands gently on Batman's arm. He made no move to reciprocate, but the indication was clear. "My place is here." It was now Dick's turn to gape. 

"You…and…" He quickly closed his mouth, steeling himself from the newest revelation of the night. "You really had this planned out, didn't you Bruce. In the end, it'll all work out for you."

"Dick, this isn't his fault. That's not what he's doing."

"Stay out of this!" He turned on her, and the sudden outburst made her recoil slightly. "He can talk for himself, you don't need to do it for him! God Barbara, you're so blinded by…I don't even know what to call this? A crush? Lust? Love? You can't see what's happening right in front of you. Are you going to be so willing to stand beside him when he tries to take your costume away, too? What's going to happen when he decommissions Batgirl?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide and wet (they were always teary these days), and the only response she could give him was a whispered "I'm so sorry."

He looked back to Bruce, expecting an apology, triumph on his face, sadness—something. But he got nothing but a blank stare in return. It shouldn't have surprised him.

He had to leave. He was feeling a thousand emotions at once now, and he just needed to get away from this little cave of horrors. He moved backward, closer to his bike. "I guess you win, Bruce. Forgive me if I don't stay around to bask in your victory." He turned and quickened his pace to his motorcycle. Mounting and securing his helmet, he kicked the kickstand and gunned the accelerator. He'd have to contact Alfred and Tim, say good bye. Maybe Tim would even want to leave with him. 

The bike sped to the exit, and the rock face slid open as he rode out of the Batcave for the last time. They didn't try to stop him. And he didn't look back.

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Epilogue: Broken

He closed the last display case, and initiated the airtight locking mechanism. Stepping back, he surveyed the displayed suits. Four reminders of the best and worst of times. And after years, he'd finally gotten them all where they belonged: behind glass, not on the streets.

His old Batman suit, outdated and depreciated in the left most case, had been upgraded to the sleeker black one he now wore. It was quite a remarkable feat of technology, giving him almost superhuman like powers. While he hadn't been fond of the idea initially, the suit had grown on him, and it proved more useful in his battles with the rest of the League. He'd hung up the old cape and cowl, acknowledging that it was a change that needed to be made.

The Robin suit, standing next to the Batman suit, had been on display the longest. Despite the circumstances under which it was retired, he'd felt it necessary to honor the former boy wonder. Tim was now attending Brentwood Academy on scholarship (a Wayne Enterprises scholarship, although Tim didn't know this). His attempts to continue fighting crime had been easily thwarted; the Teen Titans had been disbanded by the Justice League, and soon after, Tim had retired on his own accord. He'd live out his life sans costumes, even if normalcy had to be forced on him.

The Batgirl outfit had found its way to the display more easily. Barbara had called it quits (on everything) without much prompting from him. Her initial insistence on staying by his side against his wishes had worn away through the years, as had any friendship they possessed. He'd last seen her as he retreated from a crime scene. She was cuffing a bank robber that he'd tied up for the police, silver GCPD badge pinned to her left breast.

And the last suit, the one whose owner hadn't officially resigned…

Well, that story was something he chose not to think about often. There was too much history, too much complication, too many words, both said and unsaid. It was a distraction he didn't need. There was a job to be done. A mission to be completed. More lives to be saved.

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The End


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